Centon Horror Series: Randy Apples
by Les Missedyercalls
Summary: Inspired by The Hitcher (2007): Randy pulled me into him again, saying, "Come here John; hold still." He took my face in his hands and I tried to stay as still as possible. Randy drifted to my lips and opened his own just slightly, but didn't attempt to kiss me. I was so anxious with anticipation, I could hardly stand it. Then, he belched in my face.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: This is a Halloween-inspired Centon story originally written on October 2011. The plot of the story is based on an idea submitted by FF user Cenaholic. After reading over the original version, I noticed a lot of outdated information, so this version will be edited to feature new characters, plot twists and scenes, and possibly a new ending. I haven't made up my mind on if I would like to change the twist ending or if I will select an alternate-ending method that features the old ending and the new ending(s).

This story will feature some Rated M-graphic-Halloween-horror-style content, including violence and sexuality, murder and mayhem, and random-pointless-topless-bimbo moments. Horror films that inspired this story are Jeepers Creepers (2001), A Nightmare on Elm Street (2010), Freddy vs Jason (2003) and House of Wax (2005). I do not claim to own any rights to WWE or its affiliates. This story is for entertainment purposes only.

1:

PRANK!

I stared at the word, written in green paint on the wall just beside my locker. I knew Ryder did the paint job because he was the only one I could think of who would write something that hilarious and stupid. My clothes were all over the floor and covered in flour, probably from Big Show, my ring gear was in a pile underneath a running shower head, probably from Punk, and I was pretty sure I had at least $200 in my wallet before I left twenty minutes ago, probably taken by Hornswaggle to be used later to buy the roster a round of drinks at the local bar.

Being John Cena was like working three full time jobs, while juggling the lover, the family, the road trips, the flights, the gear, the finances, and even the movies. A "day off" for me just meant that I was in the middle of something other than wrestling. I'm not complaining; I love my life and I choose to live it this way. It's easy to get overwhelmed, though, and the guys were always looking for ways to prank me so I didn't forget that it was alright to have fun once in a while.

I was still laughing when Randy came into the locker room. He glanced at my clothes on the floor and asked dryly, "Are you making a new fashion statement, Naked Baby?"

His daughter gave me that nickname. Randy only called me that when no one else was around. I would've argued with him about it, but I really was naked at that moment.

"Shut up and quit staring at my junk," I shielded my crotch with my hand and made a mock offended face.

Randy chuckled and shot back, "I don't need to see your junk! I know what it looks like...when it's visible."

I lifted a brow and asked in a dark tone, "Was that a reference to my penis size, Randal?"

I knew he hated being called Randal. He gave me the Viper's stare and countered, "It was."

"You've hurt me, man. That is a low blow," I turned away from him and acted as if I were completely distraught.

He came up behind me and put his arms around my waist. We knew we probably didn't have much time to be this close before the other guys showed up, so Randy pressed his lips to my ear and whispered, "Oh, come on, I only say things like that because I resent the fact that your cock is almost as huge as your ass. I could really give you a _low blow_ if you want."

I closed my eyes and stated with a deep sigh, "That sounds nice, but I'm already late and I've gotta find some fucking backup gear before I get out there and fight Ryback."

Randy squeezed me a little tighter. Since he had been drafted to Smackdown, it was nearly impossible for us to spend as much time together as we wanted to.

"We'll save it for tonight, then," Randy let me go.

I nodded and he rubbed the top of my head gruffly with the palm of his hand as he told me, "I love you, you know that?"

Randy was never good at expressing his feelings. That's why he symbolized his love for me by only saying it _after_ giving me a massive noogie.

"Yeah, I know. Love you, too, you big dope," I countered.

He gave me another quick glare before he walked out. I knew he'd get me back later for calling him a dope, but it didn't bother me 'cause I liked it rough.

I rubbed my head to get the tingling feeling from Randy's touch out of it, then I started picking up my stuff while I tried to remember where I put my extra pair of shorts.

Something moved out of the corner of my eye and I turned to look for it, thinking one of the wrestlers came in from the other entrance. I caught sight of a figure stepping just behind a line of lockers in the darker part of the room.

The size and build of the figure made me think it had to be Daniel. He wasn't the type to try and hide from me, though. Even if he saw me with Randy, earlier, he would've asked me about it face-to-face.

"Danny? Where you goin', man?" I went after him.

I circled the lockers but there was no sign of him. I breathed in and caught a whiff of wet dog smell. Some of the guys brought their pets on the road from time to time, but I couldn't remember anyone since Jeff Hardy who had a dog with them. I went over to where I thought I saw Daniel, and the smell was stronger there.

Was this part of the prank?

"Daniel? You around?" I called out once more.

He didn't answer me, so I shrugged and assumed I saw someone else. I was about to leave when I thought I saw one of my smaller bags in the dark part of the room. I went over and grabbed it, breathing a sigh of relief when I discovered that it was the bag with my spare gear in it.

"Awesome," I smiled, grateful that the guys had at least kept one bag for me.

I glanced back at the darkness before leaving. Nothing moved within it, so I assumed whomever had been there was gone.

As long as it wasn't a clown. I_ HATE_ clowns. Faceless little bastards.

* * *

The relationship that I had with Randy wasn't always so easy. Randy and I had tried to stay away from each other many times in the past, knowing that our careers could be ruined if the truth came out, but we just couldn't stay apart, and after Randy used the handcuffs and cane on me at Breaking Point, we realized we were in love with each other. It didn't matter whether we were gay or bisexual or whatever. Randy and I felt comfortable with each other. He could tell me anything. He'd listen to me rap freestyle for hours. I'd get food poisoning and he'd be the one to tell me I was an idiot for eating gas station sandwiches. He called me up when his daughter was born and we both cried on the phone. To us, it wasn't about being "gay," it was about sharing so much of your life with another person that you hardly remember where they end and you begin.

_The physical part was just a bonus. _

"Randy? Ow!" I cried out when his thrusts got too strong.

He liked being rough with me. I knew he was totally different when he was still with Samantha because the three of us had an alcohol-induced wild night together a few years ago, when Elizabeth and I were going through a breakup and I was staying at Randy's place until I could sort things out. It was a one-time thing, but I still couldn't help remembering how careful Randy was with Samantha, making love to her like a hummingbird caressing the inside of a flower with its tongue.

He made love to me like a rottweiler to a chihuahua.

"Ow! Not so fucking hard!" I argued with him.

Randy finally slowed down, but he was practically laughing his ass off. I elbowed him in the ribs and that got him going again, but he had found my prostate at that point, so I wasn't complaining.

"Oh, my God! If you stop, I will push you down the steps at the next arena!" I yelled with pleasure.

I doubted he was even listening to me. He just kept doing his thrust-grind-grind-thrust thing he liked to do to get me going once he found my prostate. His system, or whatever you want to call it, made the pleasure last a lot longer and it made me cum that much harder.

"Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Oh, my God!" I was still chanting when I finally exploded.

I wore a condom so I could just squirt into that instead of messing up the sheets. It felt inconsiderate to stain everything and make the housekeeper clean it up after we left. Randy did the same, and once we tossed our juices away, I lay down against his sweaty chest and breathed in his musky scented cologne while he traced the huge muscles of my back with his fingertips. He turned on the TV and we laughed over a dopey comedy, then I sat up and told him, "I've gotta go."

"You don't have to go, yet. It's early," he remarked, glancing at the clock.

It was well after midnight, but Randy was more awake at night than during the day, so it was early to him. I shook my head and replied, "I'm sorry, I want to stay, but Vince has me booked for some local events and I've gotta be up in three hours."

Randy frowned and told me, "You should've said something so I didn't try to wear you out so much."

I rolled my eyes at him and replied, "Oh yeah, 'cause gentle is really your nature."

"What does that mean? I could be gentle if I wanted to," he gave me a hard stare.

"Quit it. I've gotta go," I leaned in to kiss him good-bye.

He let me, but shouted as I walked out the door, "I want some more '_us_' time tomorrow! I promise I'll be gentle!"

He pronounced the last word with a high pitched tone and it made me laugh all the way back to my hotel room. As soon as I opened the door, I thought something was wrong because I noticed the bathroom door was open and steam was coming out of it from the running shower.

I wondered if maybe I had the wrong room number, so I checked my card and the door number and double checked it. _Same number._ I confirmed I was in the right room when I stepped inside and saw my bags still in a pile by the bed.

I closed the door to my room and quietly made my way to the bathroom. I knew it couldn't be a fan because I had checked in under an alias and made sure no one saw me enter my room. I figured it probably wasn't a lunatic because my stuff was still exactly where I put it. When Mickie, one of my best friends, used to tour with us, she'd sometimes use my shower when she thought her room had a shitty bathroom. That was years ago, but I had heard a rumor that she was let go from TNA and I wondered if she had stopped by to tell me what happened.

"Mick?" I poked my head into the bathroom.

No one answered, and the shower was still running like crazy. I ignored further pleasantries and went in to turn the shower off. As soon as I stepped on the tile floor, however, I realized too late that I should've looked down, first.

The tub had been flooded and there was water all over the floor. I was already falling before I had time to process I had slipped. My wrestling training taught me to instinctively tuck in my chin so I could spare the back of my head. My shoulder blades hit the floor and I felt the very top of my head smack into the edge of the door, but my instinct had saved me from a concussion or being knocked out.

I stayed on the floor for a few minutes in stunned silence. I wasn't sure whether to think of what just happened as a prank or some kind of an accident. If another wrestler set up the prank, they might have assumed I would tuck in my chin, but it was still a huge risk because I could've so easily hit the back of my head and died. Pranks were a rite of passage, yet this one was elaborate and went a few steps too far.

I sat up when I realized the water was getting past the bathroom and soaking into the carpet. I could already feel my back starting to spasm and I knew I was going to be sore tomorrow. I turned off the water and pulled the plug in the tub to let the water drain out. I turned on the air vent to collect the steam. I used all the towels I had to mop up the water, then I changed my clothes before I started looking around for clues as to whom was behind this.

There were no notes painted on the walls. No obvious signs that anyone had been in my room at all. I double checked all my bags, going through them for signs of stolen items or alterations. Nothing had been touched.

I searched for almost an hour, but I couldn't find a damn thing. I had been through enough pranks to know that the guys always left some kind of calling card. Even if they came as a group, one of them would leave a little something. That was part of the game: letting me know who did it because they had the balls to own up to the joke.

Not this time. This was the first time I had literally been thrown off my ass by a prank, and I had no one to blame for it.

I glanced at the clock. I had less than two hours left to sleep. I decided to give up the idea of finding out who did this to me until I could talk to the guys tomorrow. I made a mental note to talk to The Divas, as well. The new Diva JoJo was still young and had a crush on Randy. If she somehow knew he and I were together, she might have set something up to spite me. Nikki Bella was also still pissed at me after we did some written scenes for the TV show Total Divas that made it look like we were a couple and I turned her down when she asked to make our romance the real deal.

I climbed into bed and tried to close my eyes. I took in a deep breath, and that's when I smelled it.

_Wet dog._

I opened my eyes and glanced around. I couldn't remember smelling wet dog anywhere else in the room. I kicked the comforter off and pulled back the top sheet to check the bed. Sure enough, there was a big wet spot on the left side of the bed, like someone had sat down while they were still soaked.

The spot looked like it was just water, but it had the same wet dog smell. Either a very unsanitary person was stalking me and ran for his or her life when he or she attempted to use my shower, but decided to sit down for a second before he or she fled the scene of potential cleanliness, or the prankster was someone with pets.

My prime suspect at this point was Daniel. He was the last guy who would do something this mindless, but I was still sure he was the figure I saw in the locker room. Whether it made sense or not, I'd have to confront him about it.

It was getting closer to Halloween. This time of year never freaked me out. In fact, I loved watching horror movies and scaring other people.

This year, though, I was the one who was scared.


	2. Chapter 2

2:

"Okay, so let's get this straight...you checked into your hotel room at 3 in the afternoon, like the rest of us," Ziggler recapped.

I nodded and the other wrestlers and the Divas on the tour bus listened as Ziggler continued, "Then you left with the rest of us to the arena, and we did the show and all, then everyone left around 9:30 or ten-ish."

Again, everyone nodded. Ziggler went on, "Okay, so some of us went back to the hotel, and some went out to party. Cena, you said that you were at a local gym talking to the owner until about 2 in the morning."

I nodded the affirmative. I was sitting next to Randy and he didn't even flinch. Since we didn't want anyone else knowing we spent most of the night together, I came up with a bullshit story.

"Yeah, the owner was a fan and he wanted to show me all his machines; ask me how I lift weights, all that shit," I surmised.

The others just nodded. I had been caught up with fans so often, it didn't seem weird to them that one would want to keep me until the wee hours of morning.

Ziggler went on, "Alright, then you came back to the hotel and went to Randy's room to talk to him for a while, then you went back to your room about 3-ish."

"Yep," I replied.

"You had to use your key card to unlock the door, so obviously it wasn't a break-in," Ziggler pointed out.

"Any marks on the door, Cena? Like a credit card was used to get in?" Miz asked.

I shook my head and explained, "The door was fine. No damage that I could see."

"And you were on the second floor, so it would've been hard to get in through the window," Ziggler mentioned.

The others nodded. Dean Ambrose pointed out, "If they could do the stuff I do, they could get up the side of the wall and through the window of the second floor, but the security cameras would've picked it up."

We were all stumped into silence, again. I had filed a report with the hotel that someone came into my room during the night, but their cameras didn't pick up a damn thing. Vince wanted a more thorough investigation, but I refused to drag this out when I was still sure it had to be some kind of prank from inside the group.

"So, you didn't think it was weird that your bathroom was open and the shower was running?" R-Truth asked suspiciously.

All eyes were on me. I shrugged and explained, "I saw that my stuff was still by my bed, so I knew it wasn't a crazed fan. I had a few ideas in mind about what was going on, but I didn't think it was a big deal."

"I knew it! He thought it was a chick in there!" Miz shouted, making all the guys busted out laughing.

The girls just rolled their eyes. Nikki Bella put her hands on her hips and stated, "What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

All the guys shut up at once. With a quick shrug, Miz tried to save face, "I meant like, the desk clerk chick or something, not one of the Divas."

The glares he earned from all the Divas made Miz decide to shut up before he dug himself in, deeper.

I turned the focus back to the problem, explaining, "Look, I didn't know who I would find in there, I just thought I'd go in and check and if it was a lunatic, I'd slam the door in their face and call the cops."

"But the tub was overflowing and you slipped in the water?" Ziggler asked.

"Yeah, exactly," I answered.

Randy pointed at the red patch above my right elbow where I had torn a muscle and said, "That's where you got this."

I turned to face him and nodded. He said nothing more, but I could tell he was really upset. I turned back to face Ziggler and said, "I looked all over the room. There was nothing around. I just thought it was another prank after what happened earlier."

"Earlier?" Ziggler asked.

I glanced at Punk, Big Show and Ryder. They looked just as confused as everyone else, even though they were the three I thought were part of the prank that happened at the arena. I gave Bryan a quick glance, but he also seemed confused.

Randy spoke up, explaining, "I saw it. I came into the locker room and Cena's stuff was all over the place. Some of it was trashed, and someone wrote PRANK on the wall in green paint."

"Oh yeah, I saw that! Looked like something I would do," Ryder pointed out.

"But it wasn't you?" I asked.

"No, man. Sorry," Ryder shook his head.

"Show? Punk? You guys didn't mess up my clothes?" I asked.

They both shook their heads. I added with frustration, "Well, I saw someone after Randy left. I thought it was you, Daniel, but you took off."

Everyone turned to face him. Daniel swallowed hard and replied, "Wasn't me. Kofi and I were gaming until the show."

Kofi nodded in confirmation. Vickie raised her hand and added, "I was reading a book in the same room. They're both telling the truth."

Once again, everyone was looking at me. I made a long sigh and said, "Well, I don't know what else to say, then. Apparently, someone is pulling a series of pranks on me and trying to put the blame on other people."

"Well, trashing your clothes is one thing, but trying to give you a concussion? That's pretty steep, man," Ziggler stated.

Everyone nodded in agreement. I explained as I shook my head, "It could be a crew member or an extra, someone who maybe didn't know it was such a big deal."

"Yeah, that could be right. They would know what hotel we went to and they could have swiped your key during the show or something," Ziggler said.

Punk shook his head and stated smartly, "Doesn't explain the accuracy of the time frame. Someone would've had to have known where John was and about how much time it would take him to get back to his room to overflow the tub just enough that he would slip."

I caught on to what Punk was saying, but some of the wrestlers were having difficulty, so he clarified, "If John had come into his room a few minutes later, the water would've soaked up into the carpet and he would've noticed it was wet before stepping onto the bathroom tile. If he had been a few minutes earlier, he might've been able to turn off the water before the tub overflowed."

Most everyone nodded. Only a couple of guys were still struggling with the ever informative Punk. He noticed and said with a frustrated sigh, "Whoever did this had an idea of what they were doing. We're looking for somebody who wasn't just fooling around. Seriously, Cena, it sounds like they wanted to hurt you. Maybe not badly, if they know your training, but enough to freak you out."

"Yeah, well, they succeeded," I said honestly.

* * *

Randy caught up with me while I was walking the halls alone at the next arena. He was already dressed out and oiled up for his match, so it was hard to get a good grip on him as we landed against the wall and he pulled me close.

He kissed me a couple of times. His beard tickled my face and I had to pull away to sneeze. Randy gave me a hard look and I told him, "Your beard tickles."

I pulled my shirt up to rub the sensation off of my face. Randy licked his lips while he checked out my abs, then he pulled me into him again, saying, "Come here; hold still."

He took my face in his hands and I tried to stay as still as possible. Randy drifted to my lips and opened his own just slightly, but didn't attempt to kiss me. I was so anxious with anticipation, I could hardly stand it.

Then, he belched in my face.

"Ah, Randy! That's so fucking gross!" I fell away from him.

He laughed and argued, "Come on, I was just kidding! I hate seeing you all wound up!"

"Ugh, I thought you were gonna do something sexy!" I countered, trying to hack the bad taste out of my mouth.

"Alright, alright, come here," Randy reached for me again.

"I'm not getting near you again," I pulled away, so he grabbed me more forcefully.

He pulled me into a hug and rocked me back and forth as he whispered into my ear, "I _am_ sorry. I'll do anything to help you catch whoever is fucking around with you."

"I know you will," I replied softly.

He let me go and I looked up at him. He leaned in to kiss me again, but this time, he was more careful, taking his time on me while he searched my mouth with the tip of his tongue. When he pulled away again, the bad taste in my mouth was gone.

* * *

I woke up in a hotel room. It was dark and it smelled like rotted wood. I sat up and looked around, but nothing was familiar to me.

Where am I? How did I get here?

The last thing I remembered was kissing Randy in the hallway of the arena.

My body felt heavy. I was exhausted and groggy, like I had slept too long. I carefully got out of bed and felt along the wall for the light switch, keeping an eye out for any kind of movement in the room, in case someone were watching me.

I finally found a switch. I turned it on, but it gave me no more clarity than when I first woke up. The room was a simple bed, table and chair. The air seemed dusty and dry, like when we went through Arizona.

We were scheduled to come through Arizona, but not for two weeks.

I found the door and opened it. As soon as I walked outside, I recognized the interstate just ahead of me. The sky was pitch black and cascaded with stars. The air was cold and the terrain was flat as far as I could see. I was sure I was in Arizona, which was about 500 miles from the arena I was just in with Randy.

I glanced around. The motel wasn't very big and it looked like it was abandoned. I saw a lobby, but it wasn't even lit up. I went for it, anyway, hoping there was a working phone I could use.

When I got to the lobby, I reached for the handle and felt something slimy. I pulled my hand away and looked down at it. My hand was covered in green goo, but it smelled metallic, like blood.

"What the fuck?" I said aloud.

I heard a low growl behind me. I turned around slowly, thinking it was a wild animal.

* * *

"John? John, wake up!" I heard Randy yelling at me.

I opened my eyes and I was almost blinded by the sunlight. Randy was on his knees next to me, and I was surrounded by wrestlers and Divas.

"What's going on?" I asked, totally confused.

Ryder leaned in so I could see him better and explained, "Dude, you've been missing since last night."


	3. Chapter 3

3:

"You really don't have to do this," I told Randy.

"What are you talking about? I _want _to do this," Randy countered shortly.

His hair-trigger temper was more obvious since a couple of weeks ago, when I woke up in the hotel parking lot. I had supposedly been missing for almost 12 hours, and since I had slipped in the bathroom the night before, the WWE doctors were sure that I had suffered a concussion and I had become disoriented, probably wandering for hours before I blacked out in the parking lot.

I knew it wasn't a concussion, but I couldn't explain how I had ended up in a motel 500 miles away and got 500 miles back to the hotel parking lot in just a few hours, with no form of transportation and no proof of the journey. Randy was the only person I told the whole story to. I didn't know if he really believed me or not, but it was enough to put him in protective mode, to the point where he hardly let me out of his sight and he insisted on driving us to the events instead of using the bus.

"It's been two weeks and nothing has happened. Whomever it was probably saw everybody reacting when I was lost for a while and they realized they went too far," I explained.

Randy shook his head and replied, "You told me you saw a motel in Arizona. We're headed to Phoenix right now. I want to make sure that what you saw wasn't some kind of premonition."

"You mean precognition," I corrected him.

He glared at me and stated, "It's premonition. That's the name of that movie with that hot Bullock chick."

"Sandra Bullock was in a movie with that title, yes, but the definition of premonition is not the same as precognition. It's precog when you see what happens before it happens," I clarified.

Randy scoffed at me. I knew he hated it when I tried to be smart around him. I didn't mean to make him feel like an idiot, but I had absorbed a lot of information over the years, while Randy took a longer time to process things. He also wasn't a patient man, so taking longer to process meant that he would usually just kick your ass before he figured it out.

"I hate movies with big, confusing names that mean the wrong thing. Why can't they just call every movie one word, like Saw? That's a fucking awesome title. The word just scares the shit out of you."

I laughed and replied, "Yeah, I guess it does."

Randy went back to the subject at hand and told me, "Look, it may be a long shot, but if you saw Arizona, I think we should assume that means something, just to be safe."

"HOLY SHIT!" I yelled.

Randy slammed on the brakes and we stopped in the middle of the road. Thankfully, no one was behind us. He looked at me for answers and I pointed ahead of us, saying, "That's the motel that I was in!"

Randy stared at it in silence for almost a minute. I finally blurted, "That's the one, I swear!"

"I know this motel," Randy admitted.

"What? How do you know it?" I asked.

He pulled into the parking lot and stopped in front of the lobby. It was daytime, but otherwise, everything about the lobby and the motel itself was just like what I saw. Randy got out and I started to go with him, but he immediately put his hand up to stop me.

"Stay here," he ordered.

"But I want-" I started to argue, but Randy slammed the door in my face.

I watched him slowly make his way up to the lobby. He surveyed the area like an amateur investigator, checking for cameras or security devices, then moving on to checking for signs of life. He opened the door to the lobby. I was surprised that he didn't have green goo on his hand like I did when I tried to open the same door two weeks earlier.

Randy cautiously looked around, then he went behind the desk and started snooping. I kept lookout to make sure no one was around, but it looked like the place was completely abandoned.

He grabbed a binder and walked back out. Randy opened the door and tossed the binder in my lap, then he asked me, "Which room did you come out of?"

I had to think hard as I explained, "It was dark and I didn't check the number, but I'm almost sure it was the second to the last room, judging from the angle of the lobby and everything."

Randy nodded and took off for the room. I tossed the binder into the driver's seat and went after him. He put his ear against the door and listened, then turned the knob when he decided it was clear.

The door opened easily. We stepped inside and I was instantly flooded with the memory of the place. Randy waited until he thought I was ready to reply before he asked, "You said you woke up on the bed?"

"Yeah," I whispered, walking over to the bed to get a better look.

Sure enough, there was an indentation that showed someone had been there, and the dust buildup made it look like it was a while ago.

"John, I have to ask you something you might not want to answer," Randy told me.

I already knew what he was going to ask, so I shook my head and replied, "It wasn't a sexual thing. I mean, I think I would've noticed if I got ass-raped or some shit."

Randy breathed a long sigh of relief, then he mentioned, "Sometimes, people get freaky ideas. I heard about this guy that got forced to have sex with a bunch of chicks when they pumped him full of pills to give him an erection that wouldn't go down."

I rolled my eyes at him. Randy stated angrily, "I'm fucking serious, John! What if some crazy chick wanted your baby and she brought you here and did her shit with you while you were out! It's not as noticeable as it would be with some dude!"

Putting my hands up in defeat, I told him, "Alright, I know where you're going with this, but I just don't think it was a sex thing."

Randy calmed down some, but added, "People do really crazy shit sometimes. You of all people should know that."

"I do know that, it just seems like a sex thing would've taken too long. They got me back to you guys in a ridiculously short amount of time."

Randy nodded and looked around again. He growled with frustration after a few minutes of analyzing and told me, "There's nothing here."

"You didn't tell me how you know this place," I pointed out.

Randy looked at me like he wasn't sure if he should tell me or not. I became more concerned and he confessed, "I took Samantha here, once."

"Oh," I said awkwardly.

"It was years ago when the place was still open. We took a road trip when I was on suspension and we stayed the night here. I think it was even in this room," Randy explained.

"Well, that's too weird to be a coincidence," I said.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. It's not important compared to what happened to you," Randy replied.

I shook my head and told him, "I think it is important. If someone knew about you and Samantha, they might have purposefully brought me here."

"But that's the thing, nobody would know that, except maybe Hunter or Flair or Batista. They were my only friends at the time. Sam might have told some of her friends. Still doesn't make sense, though, because that was years ago," Randy explained.

"Do you think someone is doing this because they know about us?" I asked.

Randy swallowed hard like he hadn't considered that theory. I added quickly, "I mean, maybe somebody just thinks we're wrong to be together and they're doing this to throw it in our faces."

"Yeah, I guess," Randy said morosely.

I stepped closer to him and remarked, "It doesn't change how I feel about you. If someone is going to mess with us because of that, then fuck 'em. We're not cheating or anything, so we shouldn't have to feel ashamed."

Randy nodded, but I could tell he was still trying to process things. He started for the door and said, "We should go."

I walked out with him and we went back to the truck. We drove the rest of the way to the arena in silence. As soon as I was in the locker room and surrounded by wrestlers, Randy took off for some alone time.

I dressed out and waited for him to come back. The wrestlers took their leave until I was the last guy in the locker room, but still, Randy didn't come back. I started to get worried, so I went looking for him.

He usually took naps or stretched out before shows, and he liked to do both things in places where stars and crew wouldn't bother him, but where he was still close enough to know what was going on. I found a few rooms at the end of the hallway and I listened when I got close. I could hear Randy's voice behind the last door. He was talking like he was on the phone, so I went to open the door, but I stopped when I heard what he was saying.

"Sam, I don't want you to be involved with this. John can take care of himself...he's sure that another wrestler is to blame, like some kind of prank...no one will hurt you. I promise, I would never let anything happen to you..."

He paused for a while to listen to Samantha, then he told her softly, "Just call me if anyone from the roster tries to contact you...yes, anyone. Hunter included...just be calm. We don't need John thinking he could be losing his mind."

For Randy to think I was crazy felt like a Mark Henry-style body slam. I was the type who usually confronted the situation, but I was too angry, so I just stormed off.

* * *

I beat Punk's ass during our match. I was still so angry about what Randy had said that I wasn't holding back. When we were backstage again, Punk shoved me and argued, "You could've let me get at least one good move in!"

I just glared at him, so he called me a jackass and left. Some wrestlers, crew members and Divas were standing nearby, and they all watched me with judgment on their faces as I walked away. I rarely lost my cool, and I knew I was only making things worse by taking it out on Punk.

Randy had already finished his match, and he was in the shower when I walked into the locker room and grabbed my stuff. I turned around to leave and almost ran into Punk. He was fuming at this point, and Randy watched him yell at me, "I don't care if you put on a good show for the fans, but you made a very unwise decision by making it real out there without telling me first!"

"You ad-lib out there all the time! What the fuck difference does it make if I do something unscripted?" I argued.

Randy turned off the shower and got out to get a towel. Punk ignored him and countered, "Making ad-lib words and making ad-lib moves are not the same thing, John Boy! You made me look like a fucking amateur out there!"

"I don't know what you want from me," I walked around him to leave.

He turned around and yelled at me, "I want some fucking respect! You treat me like I'm the waterboy while you're the star quarterback and you can do whatever the hell you want!"

I was almost out when I heard Randy say boldly, "John."

I stopped and turned around to face him. His lower half was wrapped in a towel, but his upper body was still wet and his beard glistened from droplets of water. He looked so hot in that moment, it made me even more pissed that Punk was there.

"What?" I asked shortly.

Randy shot me a hard stare and replied, "Sounds like Punk has a point. You know better than to pull moves out of a hat like that."

I was so angry, I didn't even think about it as I told him, "Yeah? Maybe I'm just losing my mind. I should call Sam and let her know."

Punk glanced at Randy like he needed the right reaction to put two and two together. Randy stayed stone faced and I left the locker room before anything else could come of it.

"Why does that Punk-ass always know every fucking thing? Can't fucking fool that guy," I said to myself as I went out to the parking lot.

"He thinks he knows everything! I'll bet he figures out who is messing with me before I do, fucking bastard!" I vented out loud.

The hotel we were staying in was only a few blocks from the arena, so I walked there, fuming the entire time. I went straight to my room and tried to watch some TV to clear my mind, but I heard Punk's voice in the hallway half an hour later, and I realized he was in the room next to mine.

"Great," I snorted, turning the lights out and closing my eyes to sleep.

I heard Punk rustling around in his room. He turned on the TV and I could hear him laughing from time to time, which only made me more mad.

My cell beeped with a text and I saw that it was Randy. Curiosity got the best of me and I opened it up to read what he said:

ROTON:

WHATS YOUR DEAL?

I stared at the way his name showed up on my phone. Looked like the word rotten instead of R Orton. I didn't remember purposefully making his contact name look like that, but I ignored it and replied:

CENA:

I'M MOODY & I CAN'T CONTROL MYSELF. I'M EITHER ON MY PERIOD OR PREGNANT.

I could imagine Randy laughing out loud at my text. It made me smile and I hardly noticed that Punk had turned off his TV in the next room.

ROTON:

U CAN'T BE KNOCKED UP! WE USED PROTECTION!

This time, it was my turn to laugh. I sent him a quick reply:

CENA:

IT'S NOT ALWAYS EFFECTIVE. IF WE HAVE A BOY, I'M NAMING HIM GORILLA B-CUZ NO ONE MESSES WITH A DUDE NAMED GORILLA.

I could hear Punk moving around in his room. It was kind of distracting, but he finally settled just as Randy countered:

ROTON:

ALANNA & GORILLA. SOUNDS PERFECT.

WANT ME TO COME TO YOUR ROOM? WE CAN TALK.

I wasn't in the mood to talk, or even fuck, which was what we would end up doing more than talking, so I replied:

CENA:

NOT NOW. WE'LL TALK TOMORROW.

He took a little longer to text back:

ROTON:

K. LOVE YOU 4 REALZ LOL.

I almost busted a gut laughing, then I replied:

CENA:

LOVE YOU LIKE VANILLA WAFERS.

He quickly replied:

ROTON:

OH THAT MUCH HUH?

CENA:

YUP.

I put my phone down and tried to fall asleep again.

* * *

All night, I had dreams about being terrorized by a horrible beast that looked like a werewolf. He was skilled and smart, like a person, but he was covered in black fur. He could run on two legs, or go down on all fours when he needed to pick up speed. Sometimes, he would catch up to me. When I turned to face him, his fur would fall away and he would look like a man, but his skin was still as black as coal, and it shimmered against the moonlight like the sun reflecting off of an oil slick.

His face seemed familiar somehow, but his skin was too dark and he was far too fast for me to see him well. He'd take off before I could get a good idea of him, then he would reappear and be chasing me, again.

I woke up caked in sweat. I glanced at the clock and realized it was already morning, even though I felt like I had only slept a couple of minutes.

"Shit," I grumbled as I got out of bed.

I checked the bathroom before stepping inside. I took a shower, dressed and packed my things. Just as I were about to leave, I heard a knock at the door.

"Yeah?" I called out.

"It's me, man," Daniel Bryan said from the other side.

I opened the door and asked, "What's up?"

"Aw man, it's been a weird morning. I just found out that Punk bailed on his contract and skipped town last night."

I stared at Bryan in complete shock. He shrugged and went on, "I knew he was upset about the way things were being run, but I thought most of that was just to sympathize with the fans. I never knew he was that serious about it."

"Where the hell did he go?" I shouted a little too loudly.

Bryan widened his eyes at me and replied, "Probably back home to Chicago. Most guys go home when they quit, as long as there's still a place to go home to."

"Do you have his number or anything? Someone should call and make sure he's alright," I sounded frantic.

Bryan just stared at me. I realized I was being dramatic, so I calmed down and explained, "I just want to make sure he's not bailing for the wrong reasons. He was mad at me last night and I treated him like shit when he confronted me about it."

Nodding like he understood, Bryan replied, "Well, I didn't know him real well. None of us did, really. He didn't party much because of his straight edge thing, and I think he went over a lot of people's heads. He was smart, you know?"

"Yeah, I know. You think anyone knew him well enough to have his number?" I asked curiously.

With a shrug, Bryan explained, "He spent the most time with Luke Gallows, but he's obviously not on the roster, anymore. Luke's on Twitter, though, so you might try messaging him."

"Will do, thanks," I said.

I got my bags and we walked out to the hallway together. I glanced at the door of the room next to me, and I noticed it was propped open. I peeked inside and saw that the housekeeper had already stripped the bed and she was busily cleaning up the room. It hardly looked like anyone had been there at all.

I was walking away when I heard the housekeeper sniffle and groan like she smelled something awful. She said a couple of words in Spanish that I didn't understand, but when I caught up with Bryan, he laughed and mentioned, "The housekeeper said it smells like someone gave a dog a bath in Punk's room!"

_Wet dog smell. _

I pretended to act surprised as I said, "That's weird. Punk doesn't have a dog."

Bryan shook his head and replied, "There are other things that can make that smell."

"Like what?" I asked, listening intently.

"My dad used to own a lot of leather stuff. Whenever it got wet, it smelled like that. Most animal hides do, like cow and stuff."

"What about like, leather chaps or something?" I asked.

"Yeah, that, too," Bryan answered.

Something came to mind that I hadn't anticipated before. I had already decided that whomever was doing all this was a wrestler, but that didn't mean he had to be a _current_ wrestler. Randy also seemed to think that Hunter would know about his stay at the motel with Samantha, and Hunter had only one best friend he would share information like that with if they asked about it. His best friend was also a wrestler who wore ass-less leather chaps.

Shawn Michaels.


	4. Chapter 4

4:

(A)JOHN CENA:

Hey (A)RealGallows. Punk just quit and I was hoping you had a contact for him. I want to say goodbye as a friend.

I hit send and the Tweet went to Luke's messages. Randy watched from over my shoulder as he asked, "You think he'll reply?"

"I hope so. If he doesn't, I'm outta luck," I answered.

With a quick shrug, Randy mentioned, "I could try a few things if this doesn't work. I want to know Punk's okay as much a you do."

I smiled at him and he licked his lips like he wanted to kiss me, but we were in the locker room and it was still too crowded to risk a display of affection. I turned my head and Randy managed to give me a quick peck on the cheek without anyone noticing.

"Dork," I mumbled, grabbing my jeans for the ring.

Randy glared at me and said dryly, "What? I thought you liked that gentle shit."

"Fuck you," I elbowed him.

He scoffed and replied quietly, "Don't tempt me."

"Hey, John, you going to Club Rio tonight?" Ziggler asked from behind me.

I turned around to face him and replied with a shrug, "I dunno. Who else is going?"

"Probably most of the guys. Kaitlyn said she'd go if you did. She's having car trouble and she needs you to take a look at it," Ziggler explained.

"What? Is that thing still giving her shit? I told her to trade it," Miz argued over his shoulder.

I explained easily, "I told her not to trade it. It's not worth that much and she won't get anything better for it."

"I just think he likes talking to Kaiiiiitlyyyyyn!" Ryder teased me.

The other guys laughed and I told them, "Alright, alright, shut the fuck up!"

Ryder pointed at me and replied, "Seriously, dude, you have plenty of muscle cars at home. Why don't you just be a nice guy and give her one of those instead of trying to piece together her shit car!"

The guys all laughed again and I mocked laughter at Ryder, then I flipped him off and went back to dressing out. I glanced at Randy, but he just had a cocky grin on his face.

He knew he didn't have to worry about me being interested in Kaitlyn.

* * *

"Do you know what the problem is?" Kaitlyn watched me work while she held herself.

It was colder than we expected and I had given Kaitlyn my jacket, but it wasn't very effective once the wind started picking up. It was after the show and everyone had left to go clubbing or back to their hotel. I had told Randy to go ahead of me and Kaitlyn and I would catch up. I was beginning to think we'd never make it out of the parking lot at this rate.

I was good at tinkering with cars, but this time, the problem wasn't clear to me. It was strange because Kaitlyn's car usually had the same stuff go wrong, but I had already checked the trouble spots twice and there was nothing going on with them.

"This is so weird," I mumbled.

"What is it?" she asked, stepping closer to me for warmth.

I didn't want to tell her, but I knew I had to confess, "I can't figure out what's wrong. I mean, it's not the usual stuff and I've checked just about everything else."

Kaitlyn sighed with frustration. I tried to get an idea from her, asking, "When did this start?"

"It was fine on the way to the arena. I stopped for gas a few miles out of town and that's when it started being weird. It was making a lot of noise and it stalled once before I parked," Kaitlyn explained.

"Did someone go near your car at the station?" I asked.

She shook her head and replied, "I don't think so. A.J. was with me and she didn't mention anyone."

I felt like an idiot as I glanced at the engine again. There didn't appear to be anything wrong with it, yet Kaitlyn was describing some serious issues, and we had already tried to start the car without success.

"Kat, I'm sorry, but I think your car is a lemon," I told her.

She made an agreeable expression and replied, "I kind of thought so. I guess I'll leave it here and have it towed tomorrow."

"Do you have any belongings in it?" I asked.

"In the backseat and the trunk. Just a couple of bags," Kaitlyn pointed.

I went to get them while she pulled out her cell to call us a cab. I opened the backseat and found a small black bag that was light and easy to grab. I opened the trunk and found four huge bags that were heavier than some of my weights back home.

"You said a couple of bags?" I called to her.

She covered the receiver of her phone and yelled back, "Just my makeup bag and beauty stuff!"

I glanced back down at the huge bags and asked myself, "How many beauty products does one chick need?"

"They said they can be here in half an hour. Is that okay?" Kaitlyn called to me.

"Yeah, that's fine," I yelled back, still trying to figure out how to maneuver the beauty shop in her trunk.

"Hey, what's the problem?" Kaitlyn came around to check on me.

"I didn't know what to grab," I said sheepishly.

She shouldered a couple of bags and I grabbed the rest. It was almost the same as carrying Big Show on my shoulders as we walked over to the steps and sat down to wait for the cab. Kaitlyn tucked her bags around her to block the wind, but she was still shaking, so I put my arm around her to keep her warm. She snuggled up against me and said, "You must not get cold very easy."

"Na, not really," I shrugged.

"Thank you for trying to help me, John. I'm sure you have lots of other things to do besides mess with my stupid car," Kaitlyn said.

"It's no problem. Honestly, if I'm not wrestling, I wanna be working on cars," I replied.

She smiled and closed her eyes, resting her head against my shoulder as she confessed, "I'm so tired, I'm not really excited to go out clubbing."

"We could just go back to the hotel if you want. I wasn't really excited about clubbing, either," I said.

Kaitlyn looked up at me and asked, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it's really no problem. You probably don't want to carry around these bags all night, anyway," I answered, making her laugh.

She closed her eyes again and rested against my shoulder. I was pretty sure that she had fallen asleep after a few minutes, but there was no reason to wake her until it was time to go.

A half hour passed, but the cab didn't show. I continued to wait patiently, thinking he was probably stuck in traffic or something.

An hour passed, and still no cab. I managed to slip my hand into my pocket to take out my cell phone without disturbing Kaitlyn. I noticed I had a reply on Twitter from Gallows. I opened it up, quickly reading through the message:

(A)REALGALLOWS

Just talked to Punk over lunch. He says all is well and he is in a good place. He said no contacts. Sorry.

I let out a long sigh. Some of it was relief that Punk was alright, but some of it was frustration that he wouldn't give me the time of day to at least let me say goodbye. I knew Punk well enough to understand why he didn't want to talk to me. He knew I'd try to persuade him to come back.

(A)JOHNCENA

Thanks, Gallows. I'm glad he's okay. Good luck to you as well.

Took me some time to type it out without disturbing Kaitlyn. I sent the message along and worked on figuring out the number to the cab place. I used my smart phone to search, but I was surprised to find that it came up with two locations for cabs. The only problem was: they weren't anywhere near us.

According to the map, it would take hours for a cab from either location to get to us. I cleared the history and checked again, but the map came up with the same two locations. I stared at the maps with confusion, wondering if Kaitlyn had made some kind of mistake.

"Kaitlyn? Kat, wake up," I tried to sit her up.

Her head lolled to one side, then it completely separated from her neck.

I watched her head bounce off the steps like a soccer ball. It landed in the parking lot upside down, Kaitlyn's face permanently frozen in a purple expression of slumber.

I pulled my arm away from her shoulders and her body collapsed, sliding down a few steps before it stopped. The skin of Kaitlyn's body was also purple, like she had died of extreme cold.

"This isn't real," I told myself, knowing full well Kaitlyn couldn't have frozen when I was sitting so close to her and I was just fine.

I stood up and tried to process what was going on. I took in a deep breath so I didn't panic, and that's when I smelled it.

The wet dog scent.

I heard a low growl and I slowly turned around. I thought it was a repeat of the night at the motel in Arizona, but I had never seen the animal that tried to attack me there, and it seemed impossible that he followed me here.

The creature was crouched in the shadows of the closed arena. He got up on his hind legs and I could tell that he wasn't a typical animal. He growled at me again, then I heard him start to whine as a gust of wind went past him and carried huge tufts of black fur away with it.

I slowly made my way toward the creature. I was the type who thought that it was better to face a beast than to try and run. I could still see the creature standing in the darkness, but he wasn't growling and he was shifting a little differently, like some of his features had changed.

"What do you want from me?" I asked tensely.

The creature tilted its head into the light, and I saw its face for the first time.

A man's face. A familiar face.

Except that his skin was as black as coal and lined with what looked like tribal tattoos.

"Goldberg?" I whispered.

He stepped out from the shadows to reveal himself. He was naked and his whole body was the same black skin and tribal designs. The tribal symbols seemed to shimmer in the moonlight, like a pearl on a road made of tar.

Goldberg grinned at me. All of his teeth were gleaming white and razor sharp. His eyes were the only part of him that still looked human. Even his body moved up and down with staggering intensity as he took in deep breaths. His voice was distorted as he pointed behind me at Kaitlyn and asked, "Do you like my gift to you?"

I turned around and looked back at Kaitlyn. She was still in two pieces. It made me sick to my stomach as I realized it oddly resembled when a cat brings a dead bird with a broken neck to its owner as a sign of respect with the expectation of praise.

I looked back at Goldberg and asked, "Why would you do this to her? Did you get rid of Punk, too?"

His gleaming smile faded and he tilted his head to one side like he didn't understand. I swallowed hard and asked him, "Who are you?"

"You know who I am," he countered darkly.

I shook my head and told him, "No, you may look like Goldberg, but you're not him!"

He stared at me a moment longer before a chuckle escaped from deep inside of him. He gave me a more predatory look and asked, "Who do you want me to be? I am Goldberg, but I can be anyone else you want."

He started shifting before my eyes. It was like my vision went blurry just where he was standing and he went out of focus. I blinked a few times, and when I looked again, Randy was naked before me.

He looked exactly like Randy. The skin was even the same, except that the tribal designs could still be seen shimmering across his body. He took a step toward me and I started to think I was losing my mind.

"Stop it!" I yelled at him.

He stopped and smirked the same way that Randy did. He spoke in the same deep, distorted voice as he asked, "You don't want me like this?"

"Change back," I demanded.

My vision went blurry again. I blinked like I did before, and he had returned to the tar skinned version of Goldberg.

"What do you want?" I asked him.

He smiled like it should be obvious to me, then he stated smoothly, "I want to fuck you, John Cena."


	5. Chapter 5

5:

"I don't believe you!" I spat.

He chuckled like he thought I was joking. When my expression didn't change, he lifted a curious brow and asked, "What about it don't you believe?"

"Everything. How could you possibly be Goldberg? Why come back now? If you wanted my ass, why didn't you just tell me when you were here years ago? Why put on a show and try to freak me out, first?"

He chuckled again. I sighed with frustration and told him, "Whether you give me answers or not, I'm going to the police about Kaitlyn and I'll make sure you go to prison for life."

Goldberg's expression turned dark in an instant. He warned me, "Don't make this harder on yourself, Cena. You know I'm not human. Do you think I'd just stand around and wait to be arrested? Besides, you were the last one seen with Kaitlyn. Your fingerprints are all over her body. As far as forensics can tell, I never touched her."

I knew from the smirk spread across his face that he was right. I changed tactics to get more information from him, asking, "What did you do to Punk?"

With a passive shrug, Goldberg answered like he was talking about the weather, "I persuaded him to get as far away from you as possible. If he disobeyed, I would've broken his neck."

"Punk's not the type to just walk out, even under threat of pain or death," I pointed out.

Goldberg gave me another sideways glance and asked, "Do you not see what I look like right now? I'm a beast. People tend to listen to me when they see that I'm truly an animal."

I shook my head and stated, "It's not enough. You did something to him. You must have."

Goldberg shifted his weight and shrugged his shoulders, just like he did in the ring when he was agitated. I knew at that moment that this was the real Goldberg, but whatever had happened to him between now and the last time I saw him was still a mystery to me.

"How did you kill Kaitlyn? I was sitting right next to her the whole time!" I asked.

"Let's just say I can control what happens inside of a person, when I want to," Goldberg remarked.

His answers were turning out to be more like riddles. I asked him point blank, "Why would you kill her? She didn't do anything!"

"She was touching you. That pissed me off," Goldberg answered shortly.

His answers were becoming unbelievably frustrating. It was like talking to the old Goldberg, except that now, he looked like an X-Men mutant.

"I take it you already know that I'm with Randy. Are you planning on killing him for touching me, too?" I asked defensively.

An odd smile crossed Goldberg's black lips. He told me calmly, "As long as you give me what I want, I won't have to take my frustrations out on your precious Randal."

He grinned smugly just to mock me. I warned him, "You go anywhere near Randy, and I'll take you down."

"I bet you would," he replied.

We stared at each other for a moment in silence, then I asked, "So what now? Are you gonna take me back to my hotel room and have your way with me?"

Goldberg scoffed and replied, "I don't plan to take you by force, Cena."

I blurted angrily, "How else do you think this will go? I don't like you, there's no way in hell I'll ever ask to be fucked by you, and I don't want you!"

Goldberg continued to remain above it all, telling me, "You'll be changing your mind soon enough."

"What are you talking about?" I argued.

He came closer until he was a few inches from my face. He leaned in and whispered softly, "I'm going to make you beg me to fuck you. It's going to be long, and hard, and violent, and it will push you to limits you never knew existed, and when I'm done, you'll be left wanting more."

"You're sick. That'll never happen," I told him.

* * *

"We'll see," he said simply.

I opened my eyes and found myself in a hotel room. I couldn't remember how I had gotten to it. The only thing that came to mind was Kaitlyn's head in the arena parking lot.

"Kaitlyn!" I shouted as I sat up.

"I'm not tired!" Randy opened his eyes sat up next to me, rubbing his forehead to wake himself up.

I stared at him in shock. I realized that I was naked and so was he.

"Fuck," I said aloud.

Randy smiled wryly and replied, "Hell yeah, we did."

He looked at me like I had rocked his world, but I couldn't remember a damn thing.

"What happened to Kaitlyn?" I asked, starting to panic.

Randy gave me a curious expression and answered, "What are you talking about?"

"What happened last night?!" I yelled.

Randy's eyes went wide like he didn't know where my panic was coming from. I tried to regroup and asked more calmly, "Look, I'm having trouble with the details. I must've had too much to drink."

"You did take down a few drinks last night," Randy shook his head knowingly.

"Where's Kaitlyn?" I asked again.

Randy got out of bed to find his clothes while he explained, "You came to the club alone. You said you had fixed her car, but Kaitlyn had an injury from earlier in the night, so she called Vince and said she was going home to take some time off. You said she left in her car and you took a cab to the club."

"Oh. Right, right," I acted agreeable.

Randy stopped searching for his jeans and turned to face me with a hard expression.

"You're lying, John. Don't you dare think that all the shit we did last night will make me ignore the fact that you're dodging me," Randy stated.

I breathed a long sigh and explained, "I don't remember what the fuck we did last night. All I remember is watching Kaitlyn's head fall off."

Randy's eyes widened and I went on, "I saw Goldberg. He was the one who got rid of Punk and killed Kaitlyn. He's not human anymore, Randy. He's something else, and he thinks he can get me to beg him to fuck me."

I waited for Randy to respond. He just stared at me.

"If you think I'm crazy, I'll walk out right now and I won't bother you with this shit again," I told him.

Randy blinked slowly and replied, "I believe you."

I was so shocked, I blurted, "Why would you possibly believe me?"

He looked away and said thickly, "Because he took my ass years ago."


	6. Chapter 6

6:

"So when exactly did Goldberg become a monster?" I asked.

Randy and I circled the parking lot outside of the arena where we were scheduled for a live showing of RAW. It wasn't necessarily the safest thing to be out in the open while thousands of fans were scrambling to get inside to see us on the other side of the building, but Randy thought it was better than risking someone overhearing us.

"I don't know when. He didn't always look like you described though, with the black skin. He used to just look normal, but he was really strong," Randy explained.

Randy frowned sympathetically at me and added, "I hate that he's being so hard on you."

"I know," I replied.

Randy went back to the subject at hand and explained, "When we first hung out during our Evolution days, he was human, at least as far as I knew. It was later, after I was really struggling with my own addictions, that Goldberg started to change. Hunter, Flair and Batista were trying to help me, but Goldberg was trying to steer me down another path. He kept trying to get me to leave Samantha and forget about everything and start a wrestling business with him."

"What? He wanted you to leave WWE?" I asked, surprised.

"Yeah, he was unhappy with the way Vince wanted things, and he thought he could do better. It was like he was fine and then one day, he woke up and said it was all shit and he was going to start fresh," Randy answered.

"Obviously, you didn't go through with it, but was he asking you to leave Samantha for him?" I asked.

Randy shook his head and replied, "Goldberg never gave me the idea he wanted me until a few months after he started pitching his business ideas. I let it slip about what he was planning to Hunter because Goldberg made it sound like everyone knew, but Hunter got pissed and he and Goldberg had a huge fight backstage. On the same night, Samantha and I had a long talk and she was trying to get me to find some help. I went to Goldberg to apologize and to ask for his advice, and that's when he jumped me."

I swallowed hard and asked, "Did he rape you?"

"No. By that point, he was basically my only friend and he made me feel like no one else cared, even Hunter. He talked me into believing Samantha wasn't on my side and couldn't give me what I wanted, and that he could. I've always known I was bisexual, but I had never pursued a relationship with a guy until Goldberg," Randy confessed.

"Did he give you what you wanted?" I asked with morbid curiosity.

Randy let out a long sigh and answered reluctantly, "It felt good, being with him. I never thought I'd like taking it up the ass until he showed me how amazing it could be. He showed me a lot of things; some of them I've used on you."

I gave him a curious brow, but he chuckled and looked away like he wasn't going to tell me which tricks were learned in the trade. I went on, asking, "So what happened?"

Randy's expression turned somber as he replied, "Goldberg likes to be in control, and the more he changed, the more possessive he became. Everything he did for me came at a steep cost. I had to stay away from anyone he didn't like. I was expected to please him whenever he wanted it. Sometimes, he had me sucking his dick in the back room of the arena when he knew Hunter or anyone else could walk in on us at any minute."

He continued with a distant look in his eyes, "I was afraid of him. I learned that it was easier to cope with him the more out of it I was. One night, we were performing in St. Louis and Samantha came to watch me. I was overwhelmed that she did that for me, but Goldberg was pissed. He acted friendly with her, but the whole time, he was whispering to me about all the horrible things he was thinking of doing to her. I was thinking of marrying her, and he was thinking of boiling her tongue and wearing it as a necklace."

My eyes widened with horror. Randy went on, "I thought about leaving Samantha just to protect her, but I knew Goldberg wouldn't let it go, and I wanted to be with her. Evolution was already in talks with Vince to break up, and I was already spending more time with you, so I asked Samantha to marry me and told Goldberg that's how it was gonna be."

"Did he know about us?" I asked.

Randy shook his head and replied, "At the time, you and I were just talking. Goldberg hated me being around anybody besides him, but he never threw a fit about you. He thought you weren't a threat, and he was more concerned with Samantha. Once she and I tied the knot, Goldberg completely broke away from me. I figured he had lost interest and I was so glad to be away from him, I didn't bother to argue."

"Well, I'm already married, so I guess that's not an effective way for me to get away from him," I shrugged.

"I don't understand why he's after you, now. If he were doing it to get to me, he would've tried it years ago while he still had the chance to split us up," Randy said.

"It also looks like, in my case, he's fulfilling threats before he even makes them," I replied.

"We don't know for sure that Kaitlyn is dead. I know you said you saw her, but if Headquarters says she's home on sick leave, she's bound to turn up at some point," Randy mentioned.

"And supposedly, Punk is still alive, but I haven't talked to him directly and it doesn't make sense to me that he'd split like this. He just isn't the type to run away from a fight," I remarked.

"Everything is mixed up, I know. It seems like Goldberg is being a lot worse on you than he ever was on me, and I thought I had it real bad," Randy told me.

"So, what should I do? Just let him take me?" I asked.

Randy stopped and turned to face me. His expression was argumentative, so I added quickly, "I'd do it if it means no one else gets hurt. You already told me he doesn't just let things go."

He shook his head and stated, "He won't let you just give in, John. He's a wicked bastard. Trust me, you'll be begging for it by the time he's done with you."

I scoffed and replied, "I don't know how that would even be remotely possible! I have no interest in Goldberg and I never have! He's not my type, he's not good looking to me, and I don't care if he has a dick the size of Mount Rushmore, I still won't beg for it!"

Randy stared at me like I just wasn't getting it. I argued with him, "What? You really think he'll get one up on me?"

"I'm with you on this, John, but I know what he can do. I don't want him to do it any more than you do, but I think he's already got a plan going if he's trying this hard to get to you," Randy said.

I sighed and asked, "What if I stay with you every night for a while? He likes showing up when I'm alone, so if I'm not alone, I might stand a chance."

Randy half-smiled at the idea of being closer to me, but he pointed out smartly, "Goldberg probably already knows what you might do to stop him."

"You think we can't take him together?" I nudged him in the shoulder.

He started walking again as he replied, "Knowing Goldberg, he'd be glad if we took him together, so that way, he could take the both of us at the same time."

"He would do that?!" I blurted, rushing after Randy.

* * *

I was sore after my tag-team match, so Randy worked me long and slow, feeding his erection into my back entrance while grinding his hips in fluid, circular motions to keep us going for almost an hour until I was practically begging for release.

"Aw, Randy, it's too much! Go faster!" I told him.

His color-changing eyes stared down at me like he could see right into my very soul. He chuckled softly and asked, "What? You don't want it steady, Baby?"

"Come on, Randy, please! My ass is starting to chafe!" I countered.

He continued his annoyingly slow pace, and I was starting to think he were mocking me. I said more seriously, "This doesn't feel good, anymore. I want to stop."

Randy just kept going like he hadn't even heard me. I started pushing against his chest to get him off of me, stating angrily, "I said stop it!"

He finally pulled out and sat up on his knees, asking with frustration, "What's the problem? You said you wanted me to be gentle."

"When I asked you to be gentle, I didn't mean rub me inside until I'm a raw nerve!" I argued.

"I don't know what you want from me," Randy shrugged.

I grabbed my clothes and put them back on, stating as I went out the door, "I'm going to stay in my own room."

"What about Goldberg?" Randy asked.

"I'll deal with him, myself," I answered, slamming the door.

I checked into the room across the hall from Randy's and went right to sleep. I wasn't in the mood to face Goldberg, and my ass actually started to throb from Randy being inside of it too long.

"This is fucking ridiculous. I want him to be softer and he thinks that means fuck me like geriatrics," I mumbled out loud to myself.

I was not only frustrated with Randy, but sexually frustrated as well. I thought about giving Mickie James a call for some late night phone sex, but she was probably already asleep.

"Fuck," I mumbled, rolling over to go to sleep.

I lain there for a while, but all I could think about was Randy. I heard the door to my room click open and I was about to roll over and see who it was, until I heard Randy clear his throat and I decided to let him think I was asleep. He climbed into bed and wrapped his arms securely around me, whispering into my ear, "I'm sorry."

I felt something warm and wet dripping down the back of my neck. I reached over to turn on the bedside lamp and rolled over to face Randy.

That's when I realized his throat was cut.


	7. Chapter 7

7:

I sat next to Randy's hospital bed and held his hand while I closed my eyes to rest. It had been almost 36 hours since he was admitted, and after almost a full day of surgery, the doctors had managed to stabilize him.

"...in a coma," were the only words I remembered the doctor saying to me.

Sam and Alanna had already left for the night. I could hardly control my emotions as I watched Alanna try to understand why her daddy wouldn't wake up. Trying to explain to Vince and the police how this happened was hard, but trying to explain it to Sam was devastating.

She cried in my arms for so long, I thought she would never stop. I told her and everyone else that Randy was attacked in his room and came to me for help, but I never saw who did it. The story was true, to a point, and the police said they found evidence supporting the idea that someone had attacked him while he was alone.

They did mention that they found evidence I was in the room at one point. I explained that I had talked to Randy before checking into my room, something that could be followed up by the clerk at the desk who checked me in, as well as the cameras that showed me entering my room and Randy coming to get me moments later, but the police looked at me like they knew I had done more than just talk with Randy, and I hated being silently judged.

I asked Vince for time off so I could stay with Randy and help Sam and Alanna. He only gave me three weeks. We both knew that it was a risk to the show's ratings and to my career to take more time, and there was no telling when Randy would wake up.

I felt detached from myself. My whole world had come crashing down in a single day. I felt nothing but guilt when I looked into Sam's eyes. I couldn't even look Alanna in the eyes because I knew I'd lose it completely. Every time I looked at Randy, I remembered the horror in his eyes as the blood drained slowly from his throat. I wondered if he would be able to speak again once he woke up. I wondered if he would want to be near me ever again once he woke up. _I wondered if he would ever wake up._

"He'll wake up, just not for a while," I heard Goldberg say.

I opened my eyes and saw him standing at the foot of Randy's bed. Goldberg grinned so his pointed teeth would gleam in the soft light of the room as he asked, "Why so glum, Johnny?"

"I want you to get the fuck out," I told him.

He tilted his head to one side like I were joking. I told him again, "Get the fuck out. You don't belong here."

"Oh, right, you think I did this," he shrugged passively.

"I know you did this, you fucking moron! Don't try to deny it," I countered.

He put his finger to his lips to hush me and whispered, "No need to get angry, the staff is just outside."

He pointed back to the door with his thumb. I glared at him and stated in a low tone, "I don't care what you think you'll get from me for this, but I hate you more than ever now."

He frowned a little, but continued to tease me like this was a game to him, saying simply, "I guess I'll have to bring you some roses, then, huh? Would that make you happy?"

"Stop, alright? Just stop! If you want me so bad, just come and take me, because that's the only way you're gonna get it!" I stated.

Goldberg's playful nature faded and he stared at me more seriously. I told him point blank, "I don't want you. If you keep pushing me, you'll regret it."

"We'll see," Goldberg said.

The second I blinked, he was gone.

* * *

It was the night before Halloween. Nikki came to my hotel room to check on me. We talked for a long time, and she tried to get me to fall asleep, but I was too worried about everything to rest. She ordered some room service and tried to get me to eat, but I wasn't hungry. I couldn't remember the last time I ate.

"Do you want me to stay with you, John?" she asked that evening.

"I'll be here the whole time. Would you go to Sam's hotel and make sure she and Alanna are alright? I don't want them to be alone right now," I told her.

It had only been three days since Randy was hospitalized. I checked in on Sam and Alanna as much as possible, but I knew Samantha was looking for someone to talk out her feelings with, and I was a guy who repressed my emotions for a living, so I thought Nikki would be the better choice.

"I'll be right back. Don't leave, okay?" she kissed me good-bye.

I nodded and she left. I waited a few minutes to make sure she was gone before I got up and left as well. I drove to the store and bought as much alcohol as a hundred dollar bill could get me. I drove to the edge of town and parked underneath a bridge. The river was rushing with water as I pulled out all the alcohol and stacked it on the bank. I sat down and put my feet in the water, then took out a beer and opened it.

The water was freezing, but I didn't take my feet out. I drank down one can, then another, then another. One at a time, I worked through each pack until I had finished every last drink. I was so buzzed, my eyes were swimming, but I didn't care.

"What are you doing?" I heard a voice ask me.

I looked over and saw Goldberg standing a few feet away. He almost matched the darkness of night in color, and he was so close to the river, it looked like he was actually standing on top of the water.

"I'm getting druk-en," I told him.

He glanced at the pile of finished beers beside me and replied, "I can see that."

Goldberg focused on me again and asked, "But why so much? You could poison yourself."

"Don't care," I shook my head slowly.

Goldberg watched me for a while in silence. I tried to stand up, but even getting to my knees was an enormous task, so I sat back down again and kept my feet in the water. Goldberg leaned down and pulled my feet out, telling me, "The water is freezing, you idiot!"

"Don't tell me what the fuck to do!" I shoved him away.

"What the fuck are you doing, John?" Goldberg looked legitimately concerned.

I rolled away from him and tried to stand up again. It took almost three minutes, but I managed to stand on my own two feet, then I walked like a toddler back up to the bridge.

The pavement there was much more even. I used the wall of the bridge for support as I walked to the point that kind of looked like the middle, then I propped myself up on the wall so I could look down at the rushing water below.

"John? What are you doing?" Goldberg appeared behind me.

"Can you not see that I'm upset right now?" I tried to glare at him.

He kept bouncing around in my line of vision, but I knew he wasn't moving at all. He turned his head to one side and asked curiously, "Are you doing all of this to get out of being with me?"

"I told you, I don't want you in my ass!" I yelled, then laughed at my own play on words.

Goldberg looked at me like he had no clue what to make of my reaction. I pointed at him and said more seriously, "I will not let you get the best of me. You bring Randy back and Kaitlyn back and Punk back, or I'll do something you don't expect."

"You're already doing something I didn't expect. I need to take you to a hospital, John. Your body can't handle all that alcohol," Goldberg replied.

"You want to fuck me so bad? Come and get me," I said, jumping over the wall of the bridge.

"JOHN!" I heard Goldberg scream.

* * *

I opened my eyes and felt a pair of arms around me. I instantly tensed, then I looked down and realized the arms were tattooed like Randy's.

"What the fuck?" I whispered.

"Good morning to you, too," Randy scoffed from behind me, and I quickly rolled over to face him.

He rubbed his eyes and looked at me with his usual stern expression. I shouted excitedly, "Oh my God, Randy!"

"Who were you expecting? Are you sleeping with someone else and not telling me about it? If it's Christian, I will beat your ass," Randy joked dryly.

I grabbed him and showered his face with kisses. He struggled to pull away from me, shouting disgustedly, "Your morning breath is wratched!"

I held onto him and grinned broadly. He finally let a smile escape his lips as he asked curiously, "What the hell is going on?"

"Nothing. I just had this crazy ass dream," I told him.

"Oh, you mean the one where Goldberg wanted your ass and tried to kill me to get to you?" Randy said.

"Uh...yeah, exactly," I replied with shock.

Randy nodded knowingly and said, "He brought you back last night. He set everything straight, so only you and I remember what happened."

"Kaitlyn?" I asked.

"She's alive, just like I thought. Punk's back, too," Randy answered.

"Oh my fuck. I wish I didn't have to remember," I surmised, picturing Randy's slit throat.

"I think he wanted you to remember, because you beat him," Randy said.

"I did? He doesn't want my ass, anymore?" I asked curiously.

"Nope. He saw that you were serious about not letting him take you, so he left," Randy explained.

"I still don't even know why he showed up in the first place," I said.

Randy leaned in and kissed me again. His lips were soft and I had missed his touch. We made out for a while, then he climbed on top of me and brought my knees over his shoulders.

He licked each of his fingers and I asked, "What are you doing?"

"I'm trying something fun," he said, reaching down.

I felt him put one finger in, then two, then three. He slowly moved them in and out, and it felt really good, but I was being stretched to my limit.

He curled his fingers inside so he could rub my prostate. I groaned and closed my eyes as the pleasure traveled up my spine and vibrated through my brain.

Randy let out a low chuckle, and that's when I sensed something was wrong.

I opened my eyes just as he started to put in the rest of his fist. I tried to kick him away, but he was using his other hand to hold me down, and he was much stronger than usual. He smiled wickedly and I knew it wasn't Randy.

"Goldberg, don't!" I cried.

He went in up to his forearm. I didn't feel any pain, but the horror of it all was enough to make me scream.

Batista started pumping his fist inside of me. He still looked like Randy, but his eyes were bright red and he still wore a sadistic grin as he watched me fail to process what was happening. My eyes rolled into the back of my head as I lost control of my body, feeling the breakdown of the balance between pleasure and pain as destruction and fear took over.

I could hear my pelvis breaking apart. I could feel my organs shutting down. My brain started to seize and I was temporarily blinded as a euphoric effect unlike anything I had ever known passed through me, threatening to shatter my entire being.

"You want it, now?" Goldberg whispered into my ear.

"Yes, I want it. Fuck me, fuck me now," I begged, overwhelmed by the extreme pleasure he was somehow producing.

He pulled his fist out and turned me over. I felt him come inside and I was slammed with another wave of euphoria strong enough to make my ears drip with blood.

Goldberg was thrusting fast enough to make the bed vibrate. The wooden headboard in front of me splintered and exploded from the inside out. I couldn't move anymore, but I could still feel everything he was doing to me.

The pleasure was beyond comparison. It felt like I came over and over and over again. My body was completely destroyed, yet my mind was somehow processing everything with extreme accuracy.

My body was all wet. I glanced down and saw that I was dripping with sweat, but it was dark. It took me a while to realize I was sweating blood.

Goldberg pumped into me once more, then he let out a deafening roar as he released. I felt him fill me up inside, then he pulled out and the rest splattered all over my backside.

"There now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Goldberg spread his hands over my shoulders.

I couldn't respond. I felt like I should be dead, but for some unknown reason, I wasn't.

"Next time I come around, don't make this so hard on yourself. No need to cause yourself so much suffering when the end result is satisfying," Goldberg said.

He leaned into my ear and whispered, "I told you I would get your ass."

* * *

I sat up with a start.

"I'm alive!" I shouted, looking down at myself.

I looked the same as I always did. No broken bones, no bloody sweat, no shattered pelvis. I glanced around the room and realized I was in a hotel room, brightly lit from the morning sunlight.

"Oh my fuck!" I jumped out of bed as soon as I realized the bathroom door was open and the shower was on.

I rushed into the bathroom and yanked open the curtain. Randy turned to face me and asked casually, "You want to join me?"

He looked fine. No slit throat, no comatose state, no evil look in his eyes. It was the real Randy, and he was as sexy as ever.

I asked him just to be sure, "You're not Goldberg again, are you?"

Randy lifted a curious brow and asked, "Did he get to you?"

"Yeah. I don't think I could describe it to you, though. It was...pleasurably creepy," I told him.

He nodded and I told him seriously, "I'm just glad you're okay."

I connected his lips to mine in a long, slow kiss. When I pulled away, Randy asked, "So did he say he'll be back?"

"Yeah," I answered with a nod.

Randy frowned and replied, "I'd rather he didn't. You're supposed to be mine."

"You could argue with him, but I doubt he'll listen," I pointed out.

"Come here," Randy pulled me close, kissing me so he could sink his tongue into my mouth.

* * *

"Daniel? Bryan, you on your way?" Seth Rollins asked me just as we were getting ready to leave the hotel.

"I'm almost ready. Go on outside and I'll catch up," I nodded at him.

Seth walked out of the room and closed the door. I reached down to grab my gym bag, but when I pulled on the handle, it came right off.

I sighed with frustration, thinking Ziggler must've cut the ends of the strap. He and Swagger were pulling more pranks on me as it got closer to Halloween. They hadn't pulled a prank in a few days, though, so this one surprised me.

Grabbing the other handle to lift my bag, I found it to be much heavier than it should've been. I set it on the bed and unzipped it, expecting to find a bowling ball or some weights inside.

I opened it up, and my eyes widened with horror as I glanced over a head and body parts stuffed into my bag.

The head was placed so that I could see the face. It looked just like Kaitlyn.

"Holy shit," I mumbled, taking a step back.

The bag smelled like decay and wet dog. I took another step back and bumped up against something. I whirled around to face it, expecting the worst.

It was a wrestler, with skin like black tar and a series of tribal tattoos decorating his body. His face and body were familiar, but his unique skin was throwing me completely off. I wondered if he were an apparition, because he wasn't even wrestling for our brand anymore.

"Jeff Hardy?" I asked curiously.

He shrugged and answered mysteriously, "Not really, but I figured this was the best disguise I could use to get into your very flexible ass."


End file.
